What, are Ancient Pistol and you friends yet?
For my part, I care not; I say little, but when time shall
serve, there shall be smiles- but that shall be as it may. I dare
not fight; but I will wink and hold out mine iron. It is a simple
one; but what though? It will toast cheese, and it will endure
cold as another man's sword will; and there's an end.
I will bestow a breakfast to make you friends; and we'll
be all three sworn brothers to France. Let't be so, good Corporal
Faith, I will live so long as I may, that's the certain of it;
and when I cannot live any longer, I will do as I may. That is my
rest, that is the rendezvous of it.
It is certain, Corporal, that he is married to Nell
Quickly; and certainly she did you wrong, for you were
troth-plight to her.
I cannot tell; things must be as they may. Men may sleep, and
they may have their throats about them at that time; and some say
knives have edges. It must be as it may; though patience be a
tired mare, yet she will plod. There must be conclusions. Well, I
Base tike, call'st thou me host?
Now by this hand, I swear I scorn the term;
Nor shall my Nell keep lodgers.
No, by my troth, not long; for we cannot lodge and board a
dozen or fourteen gentlewomen that live honestly by the prick of
their needles, but it will be thought we keep a bawdy-house
straight. [Nym draws] O well-a-day, Lady, if he be not drawn! Now
we shall see wilful adultery and murder committed.
Good Lieutenant, good Corporal, offer nothing here.
'Solus,' egregious dog? O viper vile!
The 'solus' in thy most mervailous face;
The 'solus' in thy teeth, and in thy throat,
And in thy hateful lungs, yea, in thy maw, perdy;
And, which is worse, within thy nasty mouth!
I do retort the 'solus' in thy bowels;
For I can take, and Pistol's cock is up,
And flashing fire will follow.
I am not Barbason: you cannot conjure me. I have an humour to
knock you indifferently well. If you grow foul with me, Pistol, I
will scour you with my rapier, as I may, in fair terms; if you
would walk off I would prick your guts a little, in good terms,
as I may, and thaes the humour of it.
O braggart vile and damned furious wight!
The grave doth gape and doting death is near;
Give me thy fist, thy fore-foot to me give;
Thy spirits are most tall.
I will cut thy throat one time or other, in fair terms; that
is the humour of it.
'Couple a gorge!'
That is the word. I thee defy again.
O hound of Crete, think'st thou my spouse to get?
No; to the spital go,
And from the powd'ring tub of infamy
Fetch forth the lazar kite of Cressid's kind,
Doll Tearsheet she by name, and her espouse.
I have, and I will hold, the quondam Quickly
For the only she; and- pauca, there's enough.
Mine host Pistol, you must come to my master; and your
hostess- he is very sick, and would to bed. Good Bardolph, put
thy face between his sheets, and do the office of a warming-pan.
Faith, he's very ill.
Corporal Nym, an thou wilt be friends, be friends; an
thou wilt not, why then be enemies with me too. Prithee put up.
I shall have my eight shillings I won of you at betting?
A noble shalt thou have, and present pay;
And liquor likewise will I give to thee,
And friendship shall combine, and brotherhood.
I'll live by Nym and Nym shall live by me.
Is not this just? For I shall sutler be
Unto the camp, and profits will accrue.
Give me thy hand.